


Wish Me Luck (As You Wave Me Goodbye)

by Unlimited_Siggy



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: 1950s AU, M/M, Slow Build, Tumblr Prompt, bit of PTSD, drinking buddies...maybe, excitable gardener Newt, lots of gardening, mysterious tattoos, retired fighter pilot Hermann, rock n roll music, some bickering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 23:23:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unlimited_Siggy/pseuds/Unlimited_Siggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A period drama au where Hermann is a wealthy, retired air force pilot and Newt is his overly ambitious hedge trimmer.</p><p>The year is 1956 and with the war over Hermann Gottlieb, former RAF fighter pilot, has nothing better to do with his time save for reading and relaxation at his rather large manor house located in the Lancashire country-side. For better or for worse Hermann's world is shaken up by the addition of a new gardener, Newton Geiszler, who appears to be more than just some rock n roll dancing ruffian. Hermann's interest in Newt is peaked when he gets a fleeting glance at the tattoos on Newt's arms and he's not ready to dismiss the man until he finds out the mystery behind them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by byacolate's Newmann [AU post](http://byacolate.tumblr.com/post/65813877064) on tumblr. Here is a link to the [image set](http://siggyunlimited.tumblr.com/post/65973402613/a-pacific-rim-au) I created.
> 
> This is an un-beta'd work. If anyone is interested in being a beta for future chapters drop me a line. This is a slow burning fic but the pace has picked up in chapter six and will continue to do so from now on. I'm looking to have this work completed at around fifteen chapters plus an epilogue.

Warm light from the morning sun flooded the large windows of the first floor library, the heat was intense, so much so that Hermann had to switch chairs before he could sit down and read the newspaper. He was somewhat agitated that morning and as he flipped through the flimsy pages his eyes darted across the articles without taking in any of their meaning, in fact Hermann was sure he had read the same sentence several times over already.

Truth-be-told the newspaper served as a mere distraction as he waited anxiously for the maid to bring him his breakfast. Earlier that morning Hermann had, by accident, spied on his new groundsman and what he observed had sparked some deep-set curiosity.

He wanted to know who the man was without being too obvious about it.

Hermann had awoken rather early and his spying, if that term could even be used, had happened strictly by chance. His aching knee had kept him up late into the night and rather than twist and turn in bed Hermann decided to get up and do something productive with his time. He hobbled down to the first floor library, his favourite in the manor house, lit a small fire to warm the cool room and sat at his desk to work on some correspondence.

Afterwards, he spent some time reading in his favourite worn leather chair that was close by the hearth. The hours passed quickly and as the fire extinguished itself, natural light had begun to fill the room. When the words started to blur together Hermann decided that he might try and get an hour or two of sleep but before he could leave the room something caught his attention. Out of the corner of his eye Hermann caught a glimpse of movement just outside the window and as he turned to get a better look he heard a peculiar sound. It was whistling- Hermann had to think for a moment on the melody of the tune before he determined that it was one of the songs from _Snow White_ , however its exact title had escaped his memory.

Hermann watched as a dark haired man, whose back was turned to him, attended to the pink ladies. It was not a startling act by itself, the early morning was a good time to water any of the delicate plants, but what kept him from leaving the room, and the man to his privacy, was his curiosity over what looked to be drawings up the man's arms. He could only infer that they were tattoos, however they looked nothing like those he had seen previously, then again the light was not bright enough nor was he close enough to pick out any specific details.

Hermann wondered what sort of man would have such a thing done purposefully to his body…he then wondered what sort of man he had apparently hired as his new groundsman.

The term 'new' could be debated as the dark haired and incidentally tattooed groundsman had been employed at Billinge Scar since the early winter. Technically, he was not the most recent employee, however he had just taken up residence in the southern cottage that rested at the back of the estate and more importantly he had yet to meet his employer.

The small cottage had been in disrepair and much of the winter and spring had been spent refurbishing it to allow a groundsman to reside permanently on the property in order to better manage the various gardens. Since the cottage’s completion the mysterious groundskeeper had been spotted more often around the estate also increasing the chance that he and Hermann would eventually run into one other.

For one reason or another it had yet to happen. Until now, or so it would seem.

It was not as if Hermann had purposefully avoided meeting the new groundsman, or so he told himself anyway, but he had only just returned to his estate. His time with the RAF had allowed for both good and bad memories, however he regarded his recent discharge with disdain although it would allow for what his sister called a ‘ _long overdue rest_ ’. So far, Hermann's unplanned retirement involved much reading and very little contact with the outside world save for the necessities.

While not an overly large manor house, Billinge Scar had over 500 acres of land that contained not only fields and forests but also a number of gardens that brought scores of guests each year. For a shilling, visitors could spend their time walking among the flowerbeds spread across the estate from early March to late October.

Hermann was a man who thoroughly enjoyed his privacy to which the visitors of the gardens proved to be what he deemed an unavoidable inconvenience of moderate proportion. He spent his time in the libraries where he could view the displays of nature far from the shrill laughter or boisterous talk of noisy guests but to the detriment of his full enjoyment of the property. Hermann couldn't think of a reason as to why the gardens should be private other than for privacy's sake and he believed that it would be a rather poor choice to do so when they had been open to the public far longer than he resided there.

One of the reasons as to why the gardens were so popular was the constant ebb and flow of life that occurred throughout the seasons. In the early spring wind flower, bluebells, and violets decorated the estate before making way for wallflowers, foxgloves, and lilacs. These flowers formed the basis of the spring garden and what was affectionately named the 'purple border' as it lined the main entrance into the gardens.

The early summer provided visitors a chance to enjoy the main gardens that lay directly behind the manor house. Gravel pathways lined with boxwood hedges criss-crossed in elegant patterns across the manicured lawn. Larger hedges and neatly trimmed trees provided privacy and protection as guests walked among the even rows of cornflower, lavender, phlox, and buddleia. At the very centre of the garden stood a large fountain that was home to a number of amphibians and water dwellers. Scores of waterlilies provided shade and protection for the little creatures while water spilled over the edge of the decorative tiers.

Beyond the paths of the main garden was the rose garden, considered to be the highlight of the summer flowering season. Many visitors came especially for the sheer number of flowers that would decorate the enclosed area. The intense colour, scent, and beauty of the hundreds of peonies, irises, and roses blended together in a riotous mass of life that, while brief, was indeed a spectacle to be seen in midsummer.

When chance would allow, which was rare by his account, Hermann especially enjoyed relaxing within the small gazebo hidden within the garden. There, reclined on the swinging bench, he was protected from the sun by the roses that climbed the open latticework and in relative peace he could sit and listen to the songs of the birds that visited his home. A large arbour to the east of the garden served as the doorway into the white garden full of gladioli, irises, pompom dahlias, and Japanese anemones. Even further still was the apple orchard that led to the forest, and to the little cottage that sat on its very edge- now home to the mysterious groundskeeper.

Along with the new groundsman was the addition, much to his surprise, of a Japanese style garden that transformed the old eastern pavilion into what Hermann now considered to be a small oasis.

Asymmetrical in design, the garden was fairly large and contained a number of unique details that drew his curiosity. As a visitor entered the garden they were required to walk across a dark wooden platform above a sea of brightly coloured sand, below a series of rocks lay strategically placed in what Hermann would describe as a mountain scape, the edge of the sand was lined with a border of grey pebbles. Across the platform was a lush carpet of fine grass where not too far lay a series of low stepping stones that led across a section of the crescent shaped split level pond.

On the other side, a person could sit and watch as a cascade of water tumbled over granite boulders from the upper level into the lower level where both koi and turtles made their home. Various grasses and flowers decorated the waters' edge while a variety of trees enclosed the garden for a more private experience. Ferns and spurge covered the bottoms of trees while primrose, chrysanthemum, and hydrangeas bloomed in strategic places.

The sound of trickling water soothed Hermann's typically high-strung state and he found that overall the garden had a calming effect on him. As the newest garden had yet to open for public use, Hermann took advantage of it and had begun to spend an increasing amount of time within its walls.

Hermann's mind restlessly wandered between the potential identities of his groundsman, the design of the tattoos, the meaning behind them, and how such a man could be a gardener. He was startled out of these thoughts when the maid, Hannah, entered the room with a silver tray in hand. She was quick on her feet for a woman of her age and her steady hand refused to betray her unlike the lines that framed her eyes and mouth. Hannah gently placed the tray on the large wooden desk by the window; she arranged the dishes neatly and was careful not to disturb any papers that sat atop.

"Hannah, do you know the name of the new groundsman as I have quite forgotten it," Hermann asked while he removed his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. He softly sighed and tried not to gaze out the window- his focus, however was drawn to the man in question who appeared to be hard at work trimming some hedges. Hannah furrowed her brow and turned to follow Hermann's line of sight 

"Geiser, or Gezler… something with a hard Gee. It was a German name but I don’t remember it- I've hardly said two words to the man."

The newspaper, now forgotten, had been cast aside when Hermann rose from the leather chair. He made his way towards his breakfast but pursed his lips when he reached the tray, the various dishes did nothing to stir his lackluster appetite, Hermann hummed and reached for a piece of toast.

"I suppose I'll have to meet with him eventually," Hermann murmured before he sat down in front of his food.

"You haven't already," Hannah replied with a hint of astonishment, she looked down at Hermann with a chastising expression as though he were a naughty boy in need of a lecture. Hermann tried to avoid her piercing stare and instead concentrated on buttering his toast, which did nothing to ease his mind. "I haven't had the time," he said with a stiff shrug.

"That is no excuse. Your grandparents, our former Lord and Lady, or do I have to remind you, met with the groundsman regularly to discuss plans for the gardens. There's the lilac tea, the RHS flower show, the autumn harvest, secret garden Sundays, and the Christmas bazaar!"

"Yes. _Alright_. I get the point,” Hermann said through a strained smile.

“Watch your temper,” Hannah scolded and with a wave of her hand she took her leave.

Hermann glared at the back of his maid as she left the room, he took a bite of his overly buttered toast and in the seconds that it took him to swallow, and he had made up his mind. Perhaps it would be a good idea to talk a walk and stretch his legs…if he so happened to come upon his groundsman in the process well then there was no helping it. As hard as it was for him to admit it a meeting was long overdue.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermann had looked for anything that might delay his walk and the inevitable meeting that lay ahead of him. Although he was curious he was also wary and his disdain for people kept him as far from the actual garden as possible while still overlooking it from the manor. Hermann went through the letters on his desk but discovered there was not much to go through save for organizing them by size, then by subject, then alphabetically. Once finished he looked at his watch.

_Bugger-all_ , only 10 minutes had passed.

A huff escaped his lips; he looked about the room for something to occupy his time. Hermann grabbed a stack of books that had just arrived the previous day and walked towards one of the bookcases, he read each title before finding its proper place on the shelf. This task took Hermann no more than 20 minutes and that was stretching it. Finally, Hermann took to amending the list of books he ‘required’ for his personal collection, however to his dismay much of that time was spent gazing out the window and marking the progress of his gardener rather than the progress of expanding his mind.

All in all Hermann's activities wasted no more than an hour- there wasn't much more he could do other than inspect the gardens and meet his employee. Thankfully, it was a little later in the summer season so his chance of meeting any unexpected visitors was lessened compared to other times in the year.

He walked down the empty corridors, past empty rooms, and did not stop until he reached the front door. Before he turned the handle to leave, Hermann debated whether he should grab a light coat; etiquette would dictate as such, but decided against it. The solitary man made his way along the dark gravel path that stretched out in front of him; he took his time going round the house and inspected the health of the ivy that climbed precariously towards the chimney tops.

The dark green of the leaves contrasted nicely against the earth coloured brick and made the facade an appealing backdrop opposite of the woods. He wondered whether the groundsman had taken care to make sure that the ivy would not find its way into the eaves. While it was not something that bothered him greatly he worried about the upkeep of the manor and water damage was not a matter that he wished to deal with due to incompetence.

Hermann leaned heavily on his cane and walked slower in order to prevent further aggravation to his knee. While the warmth of the day had lessened the ache it was still stiff and that made it difficult in manoeuvring his body with any speed. The sun hung high in the sky, its warm rays prompted Hermann to reach more than once for his plain white handkerchief, he looked toward a line of hedges for potential relief and began to travel away from the rough gravel path. When he reached the shade of the greenery Hermann sighed with relief and leaned his back against the soft foliage. He had to give it to himself, he had made it further than he thought he would have considering the amount of pain he was in.

He massaged his kneecap and eyed the grass below him. It looked soft and inviting from where he stood and while he would have liked to sit down and spread his legs Hermann was unsure whether he would have been able to get back up again. He knew Karla would not begrudge him for falling asleep in his own garden especially after being awake most of the night; however the thought of someone finding him so vulnerable quickly erased the idea from his mind. Hermann glanced across the boxwood hedges but did not spot any clue as to the groundsman’s present location.

He needed a moment to think; the man couldn’t have gone very far from where he last saw him. A gentle breeze carried the scent of roses and a thought occurred to Hermann that the man might likely be tending to one of the other themes. Hermann moved along the hedge, under its shadow and when he rounded the hedge corner he was met with the pleasant sound of water babbling from the granite fountain.

Delicate pink petals had been blown from where the roses bloomed; combined with the shade and seclusion of the hedges and the sound of the fountain Hermann found himself drawn to sit on the cold stone of the fountain’s low ledge and so he did. Life had rarely presented a truly calm moment to simply enjoy the scenery. He took advantage of the opportunity and for a briefest of moments Hermann was relaxed- that is until the faint sound of music crept its way from behind the hedge border ahead of him.

The closer the music came to where he sat the more the corners of his mouth were pulled down in a distasteful frown. The distinct sound of fast paced guitar riffs and drumbeats deepened the creases on his forehead and his hands tighten instinctively around the handle of his cane. Hermann thought he had reminded the gatekeeper to be mindful of the guests who came to the gardens. More than once he had had the misfortune of coming across some amorous young couple who’d take advantage of the secluded nature of the gardens for more nefarious purposes and he wanted the behaviour stopped.

However, instead of a young couple or a gaggle of teenagers, Hermann was greeted with the wiggling backside of what appeared to be his groundsman. From round the mouth of the rose garden came the backward dancing form of a man who was too engrossed in his music to notice anyone in his immediate vicinity including his now overly frowning employer. Content in his own little world the man appeared to be dragging a beaten-up wheelbarrow full of grass and hedge clippings, he danced to the music that came from the portable radio that rested gently in the greenery.

_Oh good god_ \- these were the only sensible words that could be formed in Hermann's mind. Not ten feet in front of him stood what appeared to be a gyrating teenage hoodlum who was in the process of grooming his hedges.

       “ _I believe it to my soul, you're the devil in nylon hose_ ”

                            “ _I believe it to my soul, you're the devil in nylon hose_ ”

                                                 “ _For the harder I work the faster my money goes_ ”

Unsure of what to do Hermann abruptly stood from his perch and cleared his throat in an effort to gain the other man's attention. It failed to do so; he watched as the dark haired man continued to sing along with the lyrics of the song while his sheers snipped in time to the beat of the drums.

       “ _I believe you're doin’ me wrong, and now I know_ ”

                            “ _I believe you're doin’ me wrong, and now I know_ ” 

                                                 “ _Cause the harder I work the faster my money goes_ ” 

Hermann tried again, this time a little louder. It was a short stuttered sound, however it was no match for the bellowing vocals of the singer at that particular moment nor for the groundskeeper who followed suit and bellowed along with it.

       “ _You make me roll my eyes, and then you make me grit my teeth_ ”

                            “ _I said shake, rattle and roll_ ”

                                                  _I said shake, rattle and roll_ ”

In that moment Hermann’s teeth clenched together and while he could not feel the summer heat on the back of his neck there was something else that took its place- it was the twinge of irritation. Patience was not one of his virtues and Hermann suddenly found that he had had enough. He marched, or in his case hobbled quickly, to face the front of the other man before he launched into what was supposed to be a stern lecture on proper radio etiquette.

"Now see here, ther-," Hermann began with a finger raised as if to scold a naughty child but before he could even begin he was suddenly interrupted by the groundsman's startled greeting.

“Whoa! Good morning! Or should I say good afternoon? I didn't see you there,” the man said over his radio as he turned his back to face the direction from whence Hermann had sprung, he then turned back quickly to face Hermann. “Were you standing right behind me? You don't wanna sneak up on a man who's using a pair of sheers like these,” he said with a manic sort of laugh and emphasized the danger with two sharp snips, “who knows what could've happened, you might have walked right into a death trap!”

Stunned into awkward silence Hermann took a moment to get a better look at the man who stood before him. He couldn’t be that much younger than himself yet the other man’s dress was far more juvenile than Hermann or any of their contemporaries. His dark hair and shirt were damp from what Hermann assumed was sweat; this caused his dark rimmed glasses to slide down the bridge of his nose. He wore a tight fitted plaid shirt that opened to reveal a white t-shirt underneath while his cuffed blue jeans ended in a pair of black high-tops. Never in his right mind would Hermann ever willing find himself in the company of those who wore this fashion yet here he was faced with ruffian for a gardener.

Undaunted by Hermann’s weighty silence, uptight posture, and cross expression the groundsman attempted to converse lightly. "Well, it's a nice day today, isn't it? I hope this weather lasts the rest of the week, although I'm not much of a fan of the heat it is nice to be able to get so much work done. Do ya think it will be this hot these next few days?”

Hermann stared at the other man disdainfully, he'd never met a man who spoke with such excitement and fervour over absolutely nothing and he was unsure of how to respond appropriately. He raised his hand to adjust his tie and cleared his throat.

“I should think an introduction is in order. My name is Hermann Gottlieb and I am the proprietor of this estate,” he said matter-of-factly as he motioned towards the manor with his arm, “I came down to inspect the gardens and to have a word about its future development.”

The other man tossed his gardening sheers into the wheelbarrow before he reached eagerly for Hermann’s hand; likewise Hermann reached forward and took the smaller man’s hand into his own.

“Well that’s fantastic, superb really, how’d you do?” the man replied as he vigorously shook Hermann’s wrist, “the name’s Newton Geiszler but my friends calls me Newt. I’m glad you finally had some free time to come down to the gardens, what with your busy schedule n’all, have you seen the size of your Pereire’s? _Oh my god_ , they’re lookin’ great but I’ve gotta say these gardens had been a bit neglected, well I shouldn’t say neglected more out-dated and I’ve got some ideas that might really jazz up the place.”

Just as his arm was feeling as though it might break off Hermann managed to pull back his hand as Newton loosened his grip. Hermann tilted his head and pursed his lips into a tight smile.

“How charming,” came his dry reply as he glared down at the beige annoyance that still obnoxiously blared music from the wheelbarrow.

“We’ll have to discuss in detail what you have in mind, but first I’d like to remind you _Mr. Geiszler_ that there are paying guests who visit these gardens specifically for the tranquility they provide. “This,” Hermann paused for emphasis, “is a haven and one that does not include the sound of your ghastly music.”

Newton wiped his forehead with the back of his hand before he bought it down and tapped the hard plastic case.

"This old thing,” he quipped with a chuckle, “nah, you can't even get it to a decent volume before it starts to crackle."

Unamused by Newton’s laid-back response Hermann folded his arms in front of his chest and spoke in a clipped tone of voice. "Nevertheless, this isn’t some honky-tonk dance hall and I expect that you’ll follow what proper decorum would dictate under these circumstances while under my employment. Infractions such as this will result in the loss of privileges or even employment."

With his hands raised Newton took a step back.

“Whoa there cowboy, there’s no need to get your knickers in a twist. I assure you that I meant no offence,” Newton said as he turned down the radio in an attempt at compliance.

“I beg your pardon,” snapped Hermann as an injured expression crossed his face briefly before it was replaced by one of anger. “I should think you would’ve learned _some manners_ over the course of your life or did you grow up in a barnyard?”

“My manners are just fine thank you,” answered Newton as he crossed his arms across his chest in defiance to Hermann’s insinuation.

“Your current predicament would say otherwise, maybe Emily Post can teach you a thing or two about acceptable behaviour when speaking to your superiors,” Hermann replied sharply and with all the air of authority he could muster. He detested rudeness and unruly language, furthermore he found the other man to be an overall aggravation…even if he had only known him for a total of 10 minutes.

Newton guffawed and sarcastically replied, “I do apologize but I seem to have misplaced a volume or two from her collection.”

“I’m sure we have an extra copy at the manor house that you can borrow,” Hermann retorted in a pandering tone that echoed the false friendliness of his expression. “I bet you do,” sassed Newton without missing a beat, “I’ll make sure to learn it by heart.” If looks could kill then the daggers Hermann glared at his employee as Newt picked up his wheelbarrow and walked away would have rendered him six feet deep.

See that you do,” came Hermann’s gravelly reply and with that he turned back towards the manor and began his return journey.


	3. Chapter 3

The sunlight reflected brightly off the pale blue walls and white tablecloth in the eastern morning room of the manor house. While the room was describably mute in nature it did nothing to ease the headache that pounded between Hermann’s temples making every colour, sound, and smell feel garish and assaultive. He closed his eyes and rubbed them gently with his thumb and forefingers while his entrée sat untouched. His mind was drawn elsewhere than the present moment, which was luncheon with his sister on a pleasant Sunday afternoon in July.

_Four weeks_.

It had only been four weeks since he and Mr. Geiszler had official met; things had not gotten any better between them and he had a feeling they were certainly going to get worse. Hermann, a man of quiet dignity or so he liked to believe, had become increasingly short tempered and agitated when around his gardener and as much as Hermann would have liked to avoid confrontation he discovered that the odds were frequently stacked against him. Be it his curiosity or sheer providence Hermann found himself more often than naught within shouting distance of Mr. Geiszler.

Not more than a week after their meeting Hermann had taken a stroll in the apple orchard, however his walk was rudely interrupted by a sudden flurry of cream paper taken up by a gust of wind. At closer inspection he had realized that they were from the copy of Emily Post’s _Etiquette_ that had been lent to the gardener not more than a few days earlier. Hermann hastily had tried to gather as many pages as he could but his efforts had been in vain as many of pages had been blow clear into the woods and beyond.

With watermarked and torn pages in hand Hermann had found Newton busy humming a merry tune in the white garden and he had confronted the other man about the loss of his property. Hermann’s stern lecture only elicited what he considered to be an uninspired apology, merely ‘an accident’ Newton had said, but it did nothing to reduce the suspicion at the back of Hermann’s mind that it was done purposefully and with malice.

Another incident occurred the previous Thursday when Karla had ushered him outdoors for some fresh air and exercise. Hermann had been unwilling to brave the northern wind and so he had snuck into the Japanese pavilion to read his morning paper.

It had been a pleasant half hour before his reading had been interrupted by the sound of someone wading into the pond. When Hermann had lowered his paper to get a look at the intruder he was greeted by the sight of Newton who appeared to be busy with the task of feeding the fish. This would have been considered a rather mundane task if not for the way the gardener had been dressed- more specifically his lack of dress. Clad only in a pair of dark jeans and a white cotton t-shirt the man had waded into the middle of the pond with his back turned to his seated employer.

This had provided a clear vantage point for Hermann to scrutinize the ink scrawled across Newton’s arms and he had been able to distinguish what appeared to be fighter planes. This only peaked his interest in the other man. Hermann had absentmindedly leaned forward and had lowered his paper to get a better view when without warning Newton had turned around to face him. _Blast_ , he had been caught.

“This is not a bathhouse, Mr. Geiszler,” Hermann had muttered as he raised his paper in order to hide his embarrassment, “and I expect you to wear something more respectable when in the presence of others.”

“Are you kidding me? Do you know what wellies would do to the delicate sand, or how they’d crush the grass, not to mention they’d scare the be-Jesus outta the koi.”

“It is not simply the lack of your footwear but the scantiness of your shirt. I highly doubt visitors would find your tattoos as _fascinating_ as you do. The shock of running into your indecent form would likely scare away any patron who’d caught a glimpse of you.”

“Just like that scowl of yours,” Newton replied saucily under his breath before he walked out the pond to stand in front of his employer.

“Who’s gunna see me in here anyways? Unless you’ve got some doe-eyed broad hidden behind this paper of yours," and with two fingers Newton had pulled down the newspaper to look right into Hermann’s eyes, "but I’m pretty sure we’re alone.”

An irritated sigh had escaped Hermann’s lips before he could prevent it and he had returned Newton’s mischievous grin with a steely one of his own.

“ _Never-the-less_ , I expect to find you more appropriately dressed.”

The next morning Hermann had been tempted back to the Japanese garden to see if his order had been obeyed. He had sat on the same bench as the morning before, this time he had forgone the newspaper and opted for the second volume of Newman’s _World of Mathematics_.

There had been hardly any time to pick up where he had left off when, over his shoulder, Hermann had heard a lofty British accent spout the sentence, “does this suit the Master’s wishes?”

Hermann turned to the direction of the voice and saw that Newton had dressed himself in what appeared to be chest waders, a heavy woollen sweater, and knit cap. The look of incredulity on Hermann’s face had made Newton burst into hysterical laughter that only inflamed Hermann’s outrage and humiliation. Hermann had stalked out of the pavilion with as much of his tattered ego as he could but even with several days distance between then and now he could still feel the humiliation colour his ears.

Karla sat opposite of her brother at the small dining table, unlike him she ate her lunch merrily for it was a beautiful day with pleasant weather ahead and she longed to take a stroll into the village. Her simple mauve wrap dress reflected her personality; it was sensibly cut and gave her a smart appearance while a string of pearls sat daintily against her neckline.

Altogether she appeared to be an intelligent and sensible young woman, however she had a wild streak that was given away by the bright lipstick and bold eye she wore in the daytime. Hermann thought she looked like Ann Rutherford but then again he had developed a soft spot for the character Polly Benedict even though he would deny the fact if ever asked. Karla looked up from her plate and noticed her brother’s lackluster appetite; she placed her fork and knife down gently on the table and looked squarely at him with a perturbed frown.

“Manni Liebling, you’ll ruin your handsome face if you sulk any longer. What’s been bothering you, you’ve been terrible sore the whole of luncheon.”

Hermann guffawed, with knitted brows he dropped his hand and raised his face to look at his sister with a sour expression, “have you -met- our groundsman? I don’t know why in God’s name he’s still employed.”

“Of course I’ve met him, but my goodness what has he done,” she replied with surprise in her voice.

“What hasn’t he done,” Hermann muttered, however Karla was unimpressed with his answer and raised her brows questioningly as she waited for a better one.

“All he does is dance around the gardens, unable to control himself or follow any rules of common curtsy or decorum!" Hermann snapped with an exasperated breath, he waved his hand to express his point but only managed to upset the contents of his teacup.

A napkin quickly sopped up the spilled liquid but it did nothing to calm his nerves or prevent the stain from setting on the tablecloth. It had started to aggravate Hermann, how flustered he felt when he spoke or even thought of Newton, there was no need for him to lose control yet here he was knocking dishes across the table and making a mess.

"I don't see why you concern yourself with such details, he seems to be doing a fine job as far as I can tell," Karla mused as she reached for the milk and poured an excessive amount into her teacup. “We have more visitors to our gardens than ever before and the flowers that are coming in this season are absolutely gorgeous. I think we might actually win at competition this year.”

"That's not the point," Hermann replied shortly as he turned his attention from cleaning up his spill to the dainty slice of lady cake on his plate.

"Well, then what is," Karla asked as she dropped several cubes of sugar in her tea before taking a generous sip.

An undeniable pause entered into their conversation. Hermann had no immediate answer; instead he reached for his butter knife hoping something would come to him. The silver began warm as he squeezed it in his palm just as if he himself were heating it with his irritation as he tried to think of an appropriate answer.

“The point is, is that he has no regard what so ever for those around him- neither the guests nor his superiors,” Hermann said as he buttered his piece of cake vigorously, “furthermore, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had been raised by wolves or raccoons or some other wild animal.”

“Hermann! What would mother say if she heard you speak in such a way,” came Karla’s chastising reply as she shook her head, “honestly, I thought you two might have gotten along.”

“That’s preposterous, what would have given you such an idea?”

Karla brought her hands together and rested them underneath her chin. “Oh I don’t know, you two seem more than evenly matched, in fact I thought you would have bonded over your love of science.”

“You know full well my interest lies in mathematics and not in horticulture or whatever that man calls science.”

“You can be such a stick in the mud. I’m sure you’d find him more than agreeable if you took the time to converse with him. You know, like humans do? And for the record I just so happen to know that he studied biology in America. _That_ is a science.”

The room had become silent once more as both siblings reached for their tea. Karla had in fact met the gardener, Newt as he liked to be called, on more than one occasion and found him to be charming if not a bit excitable. His energy seemed to fill a growing void that existed in the household ever since Hermann’s resignation with the RAF. While Karla fully accepted her brother’s introverted nature she had noticed a change in him, something dark had taken a hold of him after the war, and no amount of reading could reignite his once bright flame. This was only made worse by his recent retirement.

One particular gloomy day she had asked Hermann to describe to her how he felt and the only word he could give her was ’numb’ and this frightened her. To Karla any emotion, even anger, was better than none at all and she hoped that the addition of this lively gardener could help her brother recover what he had lost. Karla sipped her tea before she gave an almost defeated sigh and placed the porcelain cup back upon its saucer.

“If you truly think his character is reprehensible you can dismiss him at once and I swear I will not say another word.”

Hermann sat quiet for a moment longer before he too took a sip of tea; his eyes remained downcast as he spoke more to the teacup than to his sister. “I cannot dismiss him until I’ve done my due diligence and while Mr. Geiszler has exhibited behaviour that of which only a teenaged boy could boast of, I do recognize the work that he has done here at Billinge Scar and more importantly I believe in giving a man a fair chance.”

As it were this was not the whole truth. Hermann had no tangible reason, other than his own annoyance, to have the gardener dismissed and as much as it would have pleased him to send Mr. Geiszler on his way Hermann couldn’t deny that there was something that prevented him from making the ultimate decision. He mused that maybe Newton reminded him of his former cadets or maybe it was that he provided the most excitement since his days in the air force or maybe he simply wanted to know why the groundsman had fighter jets permanently etched upon his arms. Whatever the reason, Hermann was not yet ready to allow the man to go and he was more than willing to use any excuse he needed to keep Newton around long enough for his own purpose whatever it may be.

Seeing no better end to their conversation Karla glanced at her wristwatch and decided that it was time to take her leave and so she rose from her seat and made her way around the hardwood table.

“I’m going to take the car down to the village this afternoon,” she said in a sweet voice, “were there any errands I could do for you while I’m there?” 

Hermann shook his head and politely murmured ‘no thank you’ before a warm kiss was placed upon his cheek that he likewise returned with brotherly affection.

“Don’t spend all your time reading indoors, it’s a beautiful day outside and you should go out and enjoy it,” Karla chirped as she walked out of the room.

A resigned ‘ja’ was all that she received from the man who still sat sullenly at the table unable to decide whether he wanted to read in his library or venture outdoors as his sister suggested. While his headache had dissipated during luncheon with Karla, the tea in his cup had gone cold and the cake he had buttered looked so very unappetizing, consequently Hermann determined he had no other choice than to get up and leave.

Where to? That was yet to be decided.


	4. Chapter 4

The thought of fresh air turned out to be more agreeable to Hermann compared to the doldrums he found inside and the idea of possible relaxation or even enjoyment lingered optimistically in his mind. These thoughts were tarnished, however, when he noticed a mass of clouds that lurked on the edge of the horizon. The colour and shape of the darkening skyline did not bode well for Hermann and he moved quickly to take advantage of the weather while it lasted.

A short cut through the servant’s stairwell lead into the kitchen, further still was the main dining hall where two sets of elegant glass doors opened up on to the terrace. The outdoor space served little purpose to Hermann other than a pleasant dining area for the summer months, it was plainly decorated with several tall urns containing a variety of pale coloured flowers while opposite of the house a pair of narrow staircases served as a private entrance to the gardens.

Hermann had hoped to utilize this alternate entrance in an effort to avoid any unnecessary human contact but before he could reach the main dining hall he was stopped by a small woman and presented with a letter. 

“This came for you in the post, sir,” said Hannah pleasantly as she handed him a small envelope, she moved swiftly down the hall and disappeared into the kitchen before Hermann could even utter a reply.

“Very good,” Hermann murmured, he turned the letter over in his hands before putting it away in his pocket, without further delay he continued into the main hall and out onto the stone terrace.

There were a number of patrons milling about on the gravel walkways that afternoon, far more than Hermann had observed earlier, consequently he stopped short of the staircase and looked below. Hermann stared dismally at the congregation of guests who, without effort, had transformed his passageway into a daunting social obstacle course. He loathed ‘mingling’, as Karla liked to call it, and he stood hesitantly by the vine-covered railings unsure of what to do next.

A lone white patio set to his left drew Hermann’s attention, _it would have to do_ he thought, at least until a more agreeable solution presented itself. Hermann grabbed one of the wrought iron chairs, pulled it back far enough from the terrace edge, and sat down with a huff. Once settled, he drew the unopened letter from his pocket and examined it in the light. The outside of the envelop was marked by what he could only assume was the result of the wear and tear of some long sea voyage, the paper felt particularly worn in his hands; from the salt seeped cover Hermann pulled out a single thin page and he proceeded to read its contents.

                                                 “Hullo Doc,

                                                        I’ll be stopping by on the 7th, be sure to have a cold drink or two ready for

                                                        me. I hope retired life hasn’t made you too much of a bore but then again I

                                                        suppose a leopard can’t be expected to change its spots. ha ha.

                                                                                                                                     Be seeing you soon, Herc.”

The writing stirred no great feelings within Hermann except for ambivalence; he was not particularly thrilled with the idea of his collea-, no, his _friend_ visiting though he was not completely against the idea either. Ever so often Hermann was struck with what he could only describe as a pain of nostalgia- for the war, for flying, hell, even for the camaraderie and as much as the war had altered his life Hermann couldn’t help feeling that there was something missing from it now that the bloodshed had ended. Karla’s efforts to try and understand his experiences during those tremulously years did not go unnoticed, however, there existed an insurmountable wall between them that had yet to be overcome.

Just then, a cold northern wind stirred Hermann from his thoughts; the sudden rush of air sent an icy chill up his spin, it urged him to head towards the gardens as he originally had planned or else miss his chance entirely due to the approaching storm. Hermann weighed the options available to him and concluded that much of the human element could be avoided if he were to walk along the outer rim of the purple border and enter the gardens from the rear. He returned the letter hastily to his pocket, braced his weight against his cane and rose from the iron chair, and then shuffled down the stone staircase to the lawn below.

Hermann lumbered stealthy along the parterre’s border, his efforts were met with success when he reached the safety of the taller shrubbery without so much as a ‘hello’, and with this small effort he smiled to himself. Success! A stately hedge line soon separated Hermann from the other patrons, he slowed his pace in the area affectionately known as ‘the wisteria boulevard’ and allowed himself a moment without worry. The row of wisteria ran parallel to the rose and white gardens and while this particular area blossomed mainly in the springtime Hermann still enjoyed the pleasant stroll it afforded.

Hermann was genuinely surprised when he found the rear entrance to the more opulent gardens void of any guests, even more surprising still was the fact that the rose garden, and in particular its gazebo, was also deserted. Once within the wooden structure Hermann discovered he had little defence against the enticingly plush bench cushions and before Hermann could stop himself he had laid down on the soft fabric. The sleepless hours from the night before had finally caught up with Hermann, consequently, his eyes drifted shut when he was no longer able to fight against the hypnotic motion of the swing.

For a brief moment in time Hermann slept soundly; it was a welcomed relief that unfortunately did not last long enough for soon Hermann’s dreamless sleep dissolved into something worse. 

The sound of summer songbirds distorted until they became the dull drone of propellers while the comforting darkness that enveloped him like a blanket transformed into the dreary fog of twilight. Instead of soft cotton it was sheepskin and metal that he felt flush against his back, the smell of grease and fuel irritated his nostrils, and Hermann found himself swiftly transported to a place he did not recognize but somehow seemed vaguely familiar…a damaged cockpit of a plane.

Violent starbursts of red and white erupted on all sides, they illuminated the sky but gave no indication of where Hermann was or what was going on, likewise the flight instruments directly in front of him bounced and jumped about erratically providing no assistance. Hermann fought to control the joystick with both hands, sweat trickled down his face and his heart beat rapidly, when without warning the world became silent.

With every passing second that he fought for control Hermann felt his chest tighten until the dread overwhelmed him; his fears were ultimately realized when the plane gave an awful lurch and he was suddenly torn from the cockpit and sent plummeting towards the earth. The wind howled in his ears and stung his eyes, Hermann could barely breathe let alone think, however one thought was icily clear and that was his parachute had failed to open.

He would need to release it manually.

Hermann’s hands fumbled between the straps and cords of his ejection seat but as he desperately tugged and yanked at each one they did nothing. He was trapped. Trapped in a broken seat with a failed parachute. The earth hurtled towards Hermann at an alarming rate, far too soon he was mere feet from the ground, and Hermann clamped his eyes shut just before the inevitable impact.

A sudden jolt to his body forced Hermann’s eyes to open. His breath came in ragged gulps and his hands tightly gripped the hardwood bench, a pool of cold sweat had gathered in the hollow of his back and sent shivers down his spin. Hermann felt more than just disoriented. After a few moments Hermann calmed down enough to notice what had brought him back, well, more appropriately ‘who’ had brought him back to reality.

_Oh bloody hell_ , Hermann thought when he recognized the concerned face above him to be that of his gardener. Hermann pulled his shaking form upright and swung his legs down to touch the planks beneath his feet. This unsteady action forced the gardener to reach forward, ready to catch his employer if he were to fall, however it only resulted in a resentful glare that caused Newton to hesitantly retract his arms.

“Whoa there, take it easy- you don’t wanna sit up too fast or else all the blood will rush to your head. I think you were having a nightmare or something ‘cause I found you out here groaning in your sleep. You seemed upset so I thought I’d better wake you up before it got worse ‘cause I’m pretty sure it was about to get worse.” Newton’s brow furrowed and he looked unsure what to do. The sight of his employer in such a distressed state had shocked Newt more than he wanted to lead on and while there existed a distance between the two he still felt concern for the other man.

“Are you…okay?”

“I’m fine. There’s no need for your concern,” snapped Hermann in a haggard voice that implied he was anything but fine.

Hermann raked his hands roughly through his sweat stuck hair, his headache had returned with a vengeance, and the malaise that had plagued him in the dream remained with him now. _Oh lord_ , Hermann thought when he glanced at his watch; he had been asleep for well over an hour. This was evident not just by the time on the watch-face but by how close the menacing clouds of the early afternoon had advanced since he last looked at the sky.

To Hermann’s right lay his cane, having fallen during his nightmare, he leaned down to pick up the wooden object however a sharp pain pulsed from his knee and prevented him from reaching it. In an effort to be helpful Newt bent down to retrieve the cane and as he stood up it was snatched unexpectedly from his grasp.

Hermann was more than just agitated, he was furious, more specifically he was furious with himself, the last thing he ever wanted was to be caught in such a vulnerable position. His joints were stiff and Hermann struggled more than usual to get moving. He wanted to escape to the confines of his library where he could nurse his bruised ego.

“Easy does it! You don’t want to move too fast. Maybe you should sit down or-”

“If I wanted the medical opinion of my gardener I would have asked for it but as it stands I think I will do without, thank you.”

“Look, there’s no need to get snippy,” Newt replied defensively, “I was just trying to help.”

“I didn’t ask for your help now did I,” huffed Hermann, his patience all but gone, he was unable to control his biting retorts, “if you want to prove to be of use why don’t you hurry up and do what you are being paid to do. You know, gardening, if that weren’t so much trouble.”

With the finality of these words Hermann stocked off towards the manor just as droplets of rain began to fall.

As Newt watched the other man walk away with more than his usual limp he wondered whether there was anything he could do that would ever please his employer. His deliberation was brief, Newt considered how ineffective his efforts were in appeasing the other man and came to the conclusion that Hermann Gottlieb was, in fact, incapable of demonstrating any real human emotion other than irritation. If this was how their relationship was going to be Newton determined that he would at least have a little fun with it.


	5. Chapter 5

Relations between the two men quickly deteriorated as each strived in some way or another to outwit the other in a petty conflict that had become for all intents and purposes a waiting game. Both believed that it would be the other to concede defeat; it had begun with Emily Post in the apple orchard and escalated exponentially since ‘the unfortunate incident’, as Hermann referred to it, in the rose garden. Sharp glares and even sharper words now flung frequently between the two men- neither was sure how or when it would end but both knew that it would conclude with an eruption of some kind.

An uneasy feeling frequently churned in the pit of Hermann’s stomach; it was a stagnant uneasiness that refused to leave him no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. It kept Hermann on edge as he waited for some unforeseeable catastrophe to occur and it lead him to believe that all was not quiet on the Western Front no matter what Karla said. Nothing could be done to lighten Hermann’s perpetual sour mood that was made worse at the slightest provocation that forced everyone within the household to walk on eggshells.

There were only a few weeks left till the Royal Horticulture Society Show and Hermann had not discussed any of the final details with Newton, more accurately he had not discussed the show at all- at least not in person. Their constant bickering had pushed the show completely out of Hermann’s mind until one morning of the previous week he so happened to glance at a calendar and realized that the show dates were approaching at an alarming velocity. Any discussion on the matter since this sudden realization had been curt and occurred through telegram like letters exchanged between Hermann, the butler, and finally Newton himself. In reality it was an ineffectual system that allowed for any number of errors to occur and they did, well, at least in Hermann’s eyes.

Karla could only shake her head in bemusement as she watched her brother pull out his hair and pace the upstairs study unable to contain his frustration. Books and magazines littered the immediate area around his desk, which was a complete disarray, and on more than one occasion she was certain she had heard Hermann muttering quietly to himself. These uncharacteristic details sent pangs of worry to her heart and left her wondering when the last time she had seen him eat a full meal or gone up to bed.

In a normal state of mind Hermann would have balked at the caricature he had become, instead, he tinkered with the ideas he obtained from the latest horticulture journals which he sent down to his employee marked in bold red ink. To Hermann’s chagrin, however, it seemed as if Mr. Geiszler was purposefully ignoring those instructions and moving ahead with ideas that were entirely of his own concoction.

Furthermore, there were a number of pressing issues that needed to be addressed such as the erection of marquees in the parklands, the exact layout of the show gardens, and most importantly whether or not the Japanese pavilion would be ready for its grand opening. No longer able to delay the inevitable and in order to address his mounting concerns Hermann gathered up his resolve quite suddenly one bright and early morning and marched down to visit the gardener.

It was an absolutely wonderful day, the sun was hot and bright, the clouds were soft and light, and the grass was crisp and freshly cut. Hermann had walked almost the entire length of the formal gardens before he paused to catch his breath. Since the unfortunate incident Hermann had not made time to come down and visit the gardens, he preferred the comfort of his study as far away from the gardener as possible while still on his property.

Taking his time to fully admire the summer foliage Hermann took a number of large hearty breaths, when, out of the corner of his eye he spotted something unusual in-between a row of frosty morns. He approached the small object with disdain. It couldn’t possibly be what he thought it was, Hermann shook the notion from his mind, it was his imagination running wild- this was a more desirable conclusion to a most serious matter that made his blood run cold.

_Mr. Geiszler would never dare._

When Hermann moved in closer to inspect the item in question his suspicions were confirmed, beneath the pale green foliage stood a small clay figure whose soulless beady black eyes peered innocuously up at him.

Hermann had to suppress a shudder. **Gartenzwerg**.

The mere thought of the little gnomes, let alone their presence in his garden, brought an onslaught of memories to the forefront of Hermann’s mind, none so awful as that of the nightmares he suffered as a child. Hermann snatched the little garish dwarf up from the ground before he continued towards the utility sheds near the back of the property where the gardener would likely be at this hour of the day.

As he marched through the other gardens, Hermann, more attune to the colour and shape of the clay figures honed in on the presence of the dwarves who peaked out from behind shrubs or flowerbeds. His hand tightened around the clay body of the gnome so much so that it threatened to crumble into dust before he could even reach his destination. Had Karla been with Hermann at the time of his discovery she would have known what was coming next and made quick her exit, as it were, Newton Geiszler was not privy to this information and had no way of escape.

The unlucky man in question was quickly found within one of the utility sheds underneath a disassembled riding mower that had been propped up to allow for easier access to the internal mechanisms. Much of Newton’s body was hidden beneath the machine, his concentration fully directed to the task at hand; consequently he did not hear or see his employer enter the shed. Hermann strode over to the preoccupied man, stood almost on top of him, and cleared his throat loudly before shouting over the radio.

“What in God’s name is _this_?”

The sound of Hermann’s cross voice could be heard well over Frankie Lymon, it caught Newton’s attention and he rolled out from underneath the mower to greet him. He was met, not by the man who he had first encountered some weeks ago, but by some crude imitation of his employer. Newton sat up from the padded vinyl creeper, an amused expression clearly written across his face, and reached for a muck-streaked rag to wipe the grease off his hands.

“It’s obviously Frankie Lymon & The Teenagers, really, you need to get with the times- if you know what I mean. This song’s been on the radio for months now, I would expect you would’ve heard it at least once.”

When Hermann made no move other than to clench his jaw tighter than Newton had even seen he clicked his tongue and pointed to the gnome in his employer’s hand.

“Ohh, you mean the gnomes! So, you finally found one, I gotta say I’m kind of surprised you didn’t notice them earlier. I think the little guys really spruce up the place, don’t you?”

Hermann could feel a vein pulse rhythmically along his neck.

“Have you completely lost your mind? The RHS has strict rules on this sort of _frivolity_ and the last thing I need is to have these eyesores strew throughout the gardens. I’d be the laughing stock of the whole society.”

This explanation was only a partial truth as Hermann would never dare admit to the gardener that the gnomes in fact terrified him. It was something he had never even shared with his own flesh and blood let alone a stranger who might use the information against him…such as hiding the little devils near his bedroom window where they could peer in and watch him sleep. God only knows the ruckus he’d cause if he awoke to find them by his window.

Newton rose from the floor and made his way to the chaotic workbench where he searched for a particular sized box wrench; with his back turned he childishly imitated Hermann’s brewing outrage unaware that his expressions were fully visible in the window’s reflection for his employer to see and judge.

“Calm down, I’m sure your membership in ‘the society’ won’t be jeopardized by a few little bearded men, besides the kids love ‘em.”

“Take them down at once,” Hermann growled, his patience, if he ever had any was nearing its end.

“Alright- alright,” Newton relented once he located the correct sized wrench, as if he were wholly disinterested in the issue, “I’ll take them down but I have to say that you drove me to this. If you’d just consider some of my ideas then I wouldn’t have to rely on these ‘eyesores’ in bringing a little character into the gardens.”

It was true, Hermann had shot down every single one of Newton’s ideas since their feud had begun but he rationalized that many of the designs were far too outlandish to be even considered. A Japanese garden was one thing but a garden dedicated solely to poisonous plants was completely out of the question. Hermann shuddered to think what could happen if someone were to get their hands on the any one of the plants that had been suggested. The newspaper headline ‘Local Lord’s Death a Mystery - Hemlock Poisoning to Blame‘ sat firmly in his mind.

Newton on the other hand vehemently argued that the present gardens were archaic and that only the old and stuffy upper crust cared visit or enjoy them. In order for them to develop a truly awe inspiring garden, one that would get all sorts to visit, they would have to think outside the order of the day no matter what _Home & Gardens_ stated as the fashionable enterprise of the month. The stack of journals did prove useful but not for the articles Hermann had circled and intended to implement but for future development in botanical gardens.

“Furthermore, are you _even_ capable of keeping that ruddy radio to a decent volume,” came Hermann’s strangled question, “or have the incessant drum beats and guitar riffs made you deaf?”

Newton exhaled loudly and threw down his wrench into the open toolbox. He had tried to be polite, he had tried to be nice, he has tried to be helpful but Hermann had not giving him an inch in return. Sure the gnomes had been a bit of a prank but it was not as if he was going to keep them around permanently, well at least not until his unruly overseer had noticed. Newton felt the last string snap.

“Does anyone, anyone at all, have any objections?” Newton asked aloud with a pause for dramatic effect, he looked around his immediate person and seeing no one he turned and shot Hermann a dirty look before he sassily replied, “well there ya go.” 

This shed, like his little cottage, was Newton’s personal space where he could unwind while working and it wasn’t as if he was purposefully disrespectful when there were patrons around. Contrary to what Hermann believed Newton understood that not everyone enjoyed his particular brand of music and tried his best not to offend those who didn’t offend him first.

The reply only pushed Hermann over the edge, his body shook and he felt his as if he were about to burst. Without warning he threw down the clay figure to the floor and smashed it was a satisfying crash. Hermann strode towards the table, grabbed a hold of the pale cream radio, violently flicked off the volume, and shoved it under his free arm. Without another word Hermann turned to leave.

“Hey! You- you can't just take that!" Newton snapped.

"I can and I will," Hermann barked as he tried to maintain a brisk speed, “and until you can learn how to control yourself with an ounce of respect you can work in silence."

“Do you ever get tired of indulging in these aristocratic power trips of yours?”

Hermann came to a halt and turned on his heel to face the smaller man.

"You're nothing more than some hopped up rock and roll groupie whose immaturity and bravado have kept you from achieving anything worthwhile in your life,” Hermann spat venomously.

“Yeah, well you’re just an egotistical maniac with a stick shoved so far up your own ass you could be McCarthy’s right hand puppet.”

Both men glared angrily at the other while their hair bristled from embarrassment.

“You’ll get this back when I’ve deemed you’ve earned it.”

“You know what, just go ahead and keep it.”


	6. Chapter 6

Hermann and Karla sat quietly together in the upstairs sitting room of the manor house, each reading a book from their personal collection, and each distracted but for very different reasons. While Karla attempted to read one of the latest Mills & Boon novels she was constantly brought out of the illusion by her brother who sat restlessly in the chair opposite of her. Once in a while she would catch him, as he would look up from the book in his lap to glare at the beige radio that rested atop a table by the window. 

She watched as Hermann would clench his jaw then adjust his glasses almost involuntarily before he’d turn back to the page he had not been reading and flick the paper violently. This went on for some time before the sound of an engine sent Hermann to the window sill; he had not been expecting any guests that night and to the best of his knowledge neither had his sister though with the amount of planning for the RHS Show he would not be surprised if it was someone on official business.

Hermann peered out the window of the top floor sitting room and watched as a dark clad figure tore down the driveway on a motorcycle headed towards the service road that would eventually lead to the gardener’s cottage. The motorcycle slowed to a crawl as it approached the manor house, the dark figure revved the engine and gave a jauntily wave that only sent his employer’s expression further south. Hermann had never seen the motorcycle on the property before, suddenly it occurred to him that maybe the vehicle had been purchased just to spite him. 

_that cheeky bugger…_

The idea seemed utterly preposterous but then again so did their childish feud that neither man refused to relinquish.

As the sound of the engine faded away Karla wondered what might have happened between the two men for their relationship to sour so suddenly. She looked at the radio once more and concluded that the problem had something to do with the object which clearly did not belong to her brother. Unable to stand the sight of Hermann sulking by the window any longer Karla shut her novel and focused her attention on the problem at hand.

“Manni, what in the world are you doing with that radio?”

“I’m teaching _someone_ a lesson.”

“Is that so, and what lesson would that be exactly,” she questioned in a firm voice.

“That there are consequences to one’s actions.”

Karla was not impressed. Hermann knew this before he even turned to face her by the silence that followed his reply, her imposing stare forced Hermann to provide a more satisfying answer.

“I warned him more than enough times that there would be consequences if he did not abide by my instructions. I caught him again playing that radio at full volume.” Hermann balked as he gestured wildly at the object in question. “He could have offended any one of the guests and then who would be faced with the compliant? _I would_. Who would have to deal with the problem. _Me_. Better he learn to work in silence if he cannot handle the responsibility of good manners.”

Karla crossed her arms in front of her chest. Her small frame was eclipsed by the leather chair that she sat in but it did not take away the menacing vibe that came off of her.

“I take it you are talking about Mr. Geiszler.”

“Yes, of course! Who else!”

“What happened to all the talk of due diligence and a fair chance?”

Hermann shuffled back and forth, he turned away from his sister, back towards he windows, as he casually replied, “I was wrong.” He had hoped she would ignore his response. 

He was wrong.

“Ohh, were you?” Karla said with clear disdain, “well this is the first time I’ve ever heard you admit it. I’d better mark the calendar that _this_ is the day Hermann Gottlieb admitted he was wrong. We’ll think of it as a second birthday, one that marks your intellectual growth.”

This comment rewarded Karla with a scowl. Hermann pulled off his glasses and let them fall to his chest, his jaw was clenched and he had a particular look about him that could only be described as perturbed. “I don’t see why you favour him,” he said in exasperation.

“I simply believe that you’re acting rather childish. The both of you. You’re his employer, I think you should take the first step towards reconciliation and return his radio as a gesture of good faith.”

“I’ll return the radio when I’m bloody well ready to do so and not a minute sooner!”

Karla stood up from her seat, her book knocked to the floor, and made her way to stand directly in front of her brother. No longer would she sit idly by and allow him to act so foolishly.

“For heaven’s sake Manni, do you even realize the absurdity of your actions? You’ve been whiling away the hours obsessing over this petty feud of yours completely unaware of what’s going on around you. This is your first year hosting the Royal Horticulture Show with me and you’ve hardly been any help at all.”

“You can’t expect me to take all the blame!”

“Of course not, however, I hate saying this, I truly do, but don’t you think this abrasive attitude is more like father than yourself?”

Hermann straighten his back. Her words cut him deeper than she could have imagined, Hermann did not want to look his sister in the eyes, instead he turn back to the window and focused on smoke that rose from the chimneys in the distance. Karla stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder, she gave him a gentle squeeze in comfort but it did little to quell his inner turmoil.

“Sometimes, you can be so opposed to what you consider foreign and strange even when such stubbornness will only hurt yourself and those around you. Imagine how wonderful the estate could look if both of you set apart your differences and got to know each other. Please reconsider, for your sake, as well as for everyone else.”

Without further word Karla turned to retrieve her book from the floor leaving her brother to consider her advice. She had hoped the two men would’ve gotten along better since her talk with him a few weeks ago however Karla still preferred Hermann’s anger over his numbness. Anger was a feeling she had experience with and could work with it better than his emptiness. Karla was tried and there was still so much more to be done before the RHS Show if her brother was going to continue to act so foolishly.

Since the death of their grandparents several years ago Karla had taken on the responsibility of organizing the show, however she had hoped that her brother would’ve taken a keener interest in it since his retirement. This was correct in some respects though it seemed he was more interested in previewing the Japanese pavilion than of the show itself. While it was nowhere near as large as the Chelsea Show down south it did bring a number of exhibitionists from the United Kingdom, the mainland, and even beyond.

At the sound of the door closing behind him Hermann groaned, he rubbed his face into his hands before pressing his forehead against the cool glass of the window pane. He hated, _hated_ , to admit it but Karla was right. A bead of sweat slide down his neck as one of his most disturbed nightmares came to mind- startled awake in the night by the sudden touch of dread and fever he’d rush into the washroom for some water but at the threshold of the door he’d glance towards the mirror and be met with the image of an older man, whose face was darkened with a scowl, it was his father’s visage and not his own.

Hermann heaved a sigh and looked out into the night sky. Since meeting Mr. Geiszler he had acted more like his father than he’d ever wanted to admit and now that this had been made clear to him Hermann wanted to stop the transformation in its tracks even if it meant returning the seized property back to its original owner.

*****

Hermann took his time walking along the manicured gardens that sprawled from the rear of his estate, he paused briefly by the side of a small pond and grazed the water's edge with his fingertips. At the centre was a simple moss covered fountain that allowed for a gentle cascade of water. The soothing sounds did little to easy his mounting anxiety. Hermann admired the plentiful water lilies that covered much of the surface, there was no denying that since Mr. Geiszler had arrived the overall beauty of the gardens had grown.

By the time Hermann found himself at the end of the gravel path to the small brick cottage the sun had already set beyond the manor and he stood awkwardly outside of the front door unable to raise his hand to knock. Hermann chastised himself, there was no logical reason why he would be so nervous, he was only giving the blasted radio back for God's sake.

After careful thought he had decided, by his own internal workings, that it was a rather cruel punishment to confiscate his employee’s personal property. Indeed, none of the visitors had ever remarked or complained about the sight of the gardener nor the sounds that surely accompanied him on his rounds and so Hermann eventually reasoned that he had had no grounds to take it in the first place save for petty irritation and their mounting feud. The confrontation with his sister played absolutely no part in his decision or so Hermann reassured himself.

Within the walls of the quaint little building he could hear someone moving about as well as the district sound of what he could only describe as the twangs of some sort of electric instrument. Hermann gathered his courage, cursed himself for even requiring it, and rapped the handle of his cane in sharp succession against the wooden door.

He was rewarded with a muffled call of, ”just a second," as well as a series of unexpected bangs and expected profanities. When Newton finally answered the door his appearance was rather befuddled- his glasses were askew, a crumpled shirt had been hastily pulled on as evident by the missed buttonholes, and he seemed almost out of breath. Both men stared at each other, silent save for the wind as it rustled through the trees.

“Did I catch you at an inappropriate time,” Hermann asked with a quizzically raised brow.

Newton shook his head, “nah, I was just having a beer and working on som-” He stopped mid-sentence, eyes drawn to the item held in the other man’s hands, Newton crossed his arms awkwardly before finally pointing at the object in question, “is that- is that my radio?”

Hermann looked away before he returned his gaze and pushed the small object towards Newton. “I wanted to return the item to its rightful owner, after all, its confiscation was rather severe. Furthermore,” Hermann paused before sharply inhaling, “I believe my previous comments from earlier in the day were also unwarranted. Your work on the estate is clearly of merit and the grounds would suffer egregiously at the loss of your employment.”

“I’m touched,” chuckled Newton, “I wouldn’t’ve expected something so heartfelt, but I have to ask, what made you change your mind?”

“Did you want the bloody thing or shall I just take it back,” Hermann spouted rather sharply with both hands suddenly outstretched to take back the radio.

“No, no, no- don’t doubt that I’m grateful for the return of my property, it’s just, well I never expected to see it again considering the way we left things earlier.”

“I’m glad to have exceeded your expectations.”

The stiff exchange of words left each man unsure of what to do or say next, this was resolved when Newton, sensing the need to take charge, stepped back into his home.

“Have you seen the renovations to the cottage?”

Hermann shook his head.

“Did you wanna take a quick look? I’ve made a few changes to the place.”

Curiosity peaked, Hermann shifted his weight from one foot to the other while the other man ushered him inside.

“Welcome, welcome to my humble abode," Newton proclaimed whilst he scuttled from the doorway to put away his radio.

Passing through the threshold, Hermann gingerly closed the door behind him, and took a look at his surroundings. The midsize room felt cramped with the amount of furniture and personal belongings that filled every available nook and cranny including the walls which were plastered with posters, pictures, and magazine clippings. A large fireplace took up much of the space on the wall to his left save for the doorways that framed it on either side and what little space left was occupied with photographs and knickknacks galore.

To Hermann’s right was a large bow window that would have provided ample illumination, however several large hanging plants obstructed the view and much of the light if the sun had not already set. As it were, the room was now lit by a handful of comically large floor lamps positioned in each of the room’s four corners. The window was framed by a pair of mismatched bookcases that were filled to the brim with all sorts of hardcovers and paperbacks, a simple blue sofa littered with cushions was pushed against the window-frame while a black guitar sat precariously on the edge of its armrest. A small coffee table an arms-length away looked ready to collapse under the weight of the loose paper and stock-bound notebooks, not to mention bottles of beer.

Walking towards the back of the room Hermann bobbed his head as Newton continued to prattled on about the renovations to the property including the modernization of the kitchen and the addition of a small garage. An absentminded ‘mmm-hmm’ was the only response he could muster, his attention had in fact been drawn elsewhere, more specifically it had be drawn towards a desk which seemed relatively tidy compared to everything else in the room. Beneath the pencils, rulers, triangles and drawing minutiae were what appeared to be a series of coloured sketches. In order to get a better look at the drawings Hermann turned on the small emeralite lamp.

“These are quite good,” Hermann murmured after a few moments hovering over the artwork.

“Thanks,” came Newton’s surprised reply, “I work on ‘em whenever inspiration strikes me. See, I’ve got sketchbooks chalk full of ideas.”

“Is that so?”

As Newton approached the desk he grabbed a large black sketchbook from off the coffee table and began to flip through some of the other drawings for Hermann to examine.

“Oh yeah, these ones here are some ideas for bonsai trees.”

“Interesting,” Hermann hummed, he took the sketchbook in hand and flipped through its many pages, each one filled with various trees from all different angles.

“Did you want to see ‘em?”

“You have them here?”

“Just in the back.”

Newton pointed to a door directly to their right and proceeded to lead Hermann through the kitchen and out the back door onto an enclosed porch that had been converted into a small greenhouse. With a flick of a switch the glass enclosed space was illuminated by a single flickering light bulb above the doorway. To their left, atop a long workbench, were six different potted plants none of which Hermann could identify. A reserved smile crossed his face as he bent down to look at each plant.

“Impressive, but why didn’t you show them to me sooner?”

“Honestly, when you shot down my other ideas I didn’t think you’d be too keen on these either.”

“Would they be ready for the end of the month?”

“Do you mean for the show?”

“Yes, of course.”

Clicking his tongue Newton shoved both hands in his pant pockets and leaned back on his heels. “Well…considering these are my own personal specimens that I’ve raised since seedlings and that have travelled with me over hundreds of kilometres, I think I should be provided some sort of compensation.”

Hermann was keenly aware that the other man was goading him in an attempt to push his luck and if he didn’t watch his temper he’d be liable to losing it once more and all of his efforts for an amenable reconciliation would be for naught.

“What exactly did you have in mind?”

Taken aback by Hermann’s sudden complicity Newton took a moment to think what he wanted; he hadn’t expected the other man to relent so easily.

“I want you to reconsider some of my other ideas on developing the estate.”

A loud guffaw escaped from Hermann. “Do you mean your garden of death?”

“Just hear me out before you go shooting it down, again. Picture in your mind a garden so striking in its contents and appearance that it draws not only enthusiasts but the everyday man as well.”

Unable to hide his feelings any longer Hermann frowned. He still did not like the idea of such a garden but not for the reasons his groundsman might have understood or guessed. The creation of such an attraction would surely bring in larger crowds and Hermann was anxious enough with the number of visitors to his home now-a-days. In fact, he was tempted to up and move to the Shetlands, however the thought of leaving his sister behind kept him from acting on these impulses.

“I see you’re still not too keen on the idea but let me tell you that children would rather know how a plant could kill a man in the most gruesome manner possible than the number of rose breeds indigenous to the Kingdom.”

“You honestly believe telling me that children would be more inclined to visit a garden that could kill them is a convincing argument?”

“Point taken. Alright, what if,” Newton paused in contemplation, “what if, we have an apothecary garden as an addition to it like a life/death motif?”

“Even if we decided to implement such a project are you aware of the types of licenses that we would be required to obtain in order to…”

With each word spoken Hermann could see that whatever progress they had made in repairing their relationship was already beginning to crumble.

“Alright,” Hermann conceded with a sigh, “I will consider this project but in return I would like your bonsai on display for the Japanese Pavilion’s unveiling.”

Before Hermann could count to three a hand reached for his own in a firm handshake that would seal the deal.

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” Both men, happy with the outcome of their agreement, walked out of the porch with happy expressions on their faces. Now finished with their business Newton escorted Hermann back through his house to the front door, however just before Hermann crossed the threshold Newton stopped him.

“Listen,” Newton said as he reached behind to rub his neck, “I also wanted to apologize for what I said earlier today. I was just taking shots ‘ya know. Those gnomes will be gone before the show.”

Hermann smiled, “I’m glad we could have this talk.”

“So am I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sat down this week and plotted how the story is going to end and it's a good one. I'm looking at around sixteen chapters and should be keep picking up speed. The next chapter is nearly done and it actually a lot of fun. I can't wait!


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